


I'm Your Doctor

by JohnlockTheDoctor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doctor Watson, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 10,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockTheDoctor/pseuds/JohnlockTheDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock visits the hospital and meets his new Doctor, John Watson. But when he goes off to war, Sherlock realises his true feelings for him. Then he gets shot. The table has turned, now Sherlock has to care for John. Explicit for later chapters and there is also a small scene on rape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock's POV

"Oh Sherlock what have you done!", Mrs Hudson cried out, grabbing hold of my hand. I winced in pain, "come on Sherlock, we’re going to the hospital". I groaned, "Mrs Hudson, I am perfectly capable of getting them out myself". She pulled me by my good hand, down the stairs and out of the door, "you must have about 30 staples in your hand Sherlock! I am taking you to the hospital!".

She didn’t stop complaining about my well being the whole way there. She rushed to the front desk of the hospital and they nodded at everything she said, picking up the phone and talking to someone. “Mr Holmes”, a voice said behind me, “come through”.

I sat down in his room and he sat down opposite me. I placed my hand on the table in between us both and he raised his eyebrows. “I’m Dr John Watson, I’ll be taking these out for you, may I just ask Mr Holmes, _how_ did you manage to get 28 staples in your hand?”. I rolled my eyes, “experiment, and please call me Sherlock”. The doctor nodded and took my hand, using his other hand to pick up some tweezers, “this may hurt, I can give you some painkillers after”. I nodded, as he pulled the first staple out of my hand, making me bite my bottom lip, _hard._ “Relax Mr Holmes, it’ll be much easier”. I scowled, _“Sherlock!”._ The doctor smiled slightly, “sorry”. It took him about 40 minutes to pull all the staples out before bandaging my damaged hand, “try and keep it dry for 24 hours”. I nodded, looking up from my hand and catching his eye, “thank you”. The doctor smiled, “my pleasure”. I nodded, standing up, “I’ll see you soon Doctor Watson”. He laughed softly, “I’m sure you will”.

I walked out of his room to find Mrs Hudson still waiting for me, “it wasn't that bad, was it?!”. I shook my head, “no”. She smiled, starting to walk with me out of the hospital, “..and your doctor was very nice looking!”. I smiled, “yes, quite”.


	2. John's POV

"Hello Mr Holmes.. again", I said as the familiar face walked into the hospital. "Sherlock", he said and I nodded, "what happened this time?". He rolled up his sleeve and showed me, "spilt sulphuric acid down my arm. Nothing serious, but my landlady made me come here". I nodded, "alright come through". He sat down in the seat opposite me once more and I looked down at his hand, "you only came yesterday, you took the bandage off already". He shrugged, "I can’t have a bandage when I need to use my hands". I nodded, applying cream to the burn on his arm, "do be careful in future Mr Holmes". He scowled, "just call me Sherlock!". I laughed softly, "you’re my patient, I’ll call you by your last name". He shook his head standing up, "I’ll see you soon Doctor Watson". I grinned, "try not to kill yourself". He rolled his eyes, "I do experiments not _suicide_ missions”. I laughed again, “goodbye Mr Holmes”.

And so it continued. For the next two weeks, without fail, Sherlock Holmes turned up with some sort of injury everyday, for me to bandage, stitch or apply cream to. Except the last day was different. The last day, the look in his eyes, made me feel awful. He really didn't want me to go.

"Doctor Watson!", he called out as he walked into the building with a cloth pressed to his neck, soaked in blood. I quickly ushered him into my room and removed his hand, "oh my God, what have you done now?!”. He scowled, “I didn't stab myself in the neck, someone else did it!”. I sighed, cleaning the wound and stitching it up, “they only missed a major part of your throat. You.. you, would have bled to death if the knife had been any further to the right”. He looked at me, not saying anything. He just nodded. The door opened and Miss Alec walked in. _“Oh_ Mr Holmes, this is Miss Alec, your new doctor”. His eyes widened, _“no!_ I don’t want a new doctor!”. Miss Alec picked up a file and left without a word and I looked back at him. “I’m going to work in the army. I’m afraid I’m leaving tomorrow. At midnight”. He shook his head, “no! _No!_ You can’t! You might get shot! You might, _die”._ I forced a smile, “that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I can help save lives out there”. He stood up abruptly, “I don’t want you to leave”, and that’s when he stormed out. That was the last thing he said.


	3. Sherlock's POV

I sat down at the table in my flat and stared down at the knife. I said I wasn't going to go today. I said to myself, I'd just let him leave, but I couldn't do it. I just _couldn't_ do it without saying goodbye. I picked up the knife and pushed it in slightly at the base of my thumb, knowing I wouldn’t cause any major damage here. I gasped in pain as I pushed it in a little more, causing blood to spurt out of the wound as I withdrew the knife. I walked down the stairs and into a taxi, not bothering to cover up the wound, just letting the blood pour out over my trousers.

I walked in the hospital and looked up at the clock. It was 5:57pm. Doctor Watson’s shift finished at 6. I knocked on his door, ignoring the shouts of the reception staff, saying I needed an appointment. “Come in”, I heard a quiet voice say. I walked in slowly, holding out my hand. I saw the concern in his eyes as he took my hand, pointing at the seat opposite his, “you _idiot_ Holmes”. I laughed softly and shrugged, “sorry”. He smiled slightly, wiping the wound, “who stabbed you this time?”. I shrugged again, “it was an accident”. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again, “I won't be here anymore, can you _please_ just be careful in future?”. I nodded, “you could just stay”. He laughed, “..or you _could_ just listen to your doctor?”. I chuckled standing up, “I guess this is goodbye then”. He nodded, standing up too, “I got you something”. I raised my eyebrows, “do doctors usually give their patients presents?”. He laughed softly, “no _but,_ you need it”. He pulled out a blue scarf from his desk draw and stood up on tiptoes to help me pull it on. The warmth of his fingers brushing against my neck sent shivers down my spine. Something I’d never felt before. It felt, _good._ “It’s to protect your neck. Incase you get stabbed again”, he said quietly. I smiled, “thank you. It’s lovely”. He grinned, “I’ll see you soon, I hope”. I nodded, “stay safe Doctor Watson”. He nodded this time, “I’ll try my best Mr Holmes”. I laughed as he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tight. I returned the hug. Nobody hugged me. _Ever._ We both let go slowly and he looked up at me, “I’ll miss your visits”. I smiled, “you’ll save lives out there”. He nodded, “this is goodbye then”. I nodded too, “goodbye”. And thats when I walked out. I didn't like goodbye’s. I wanted it to be quick. But that was irrelevant right now. That was the last time. I’d walked out his room for the last time.


	4. John's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small part on rape. Not graphic, just a small warning though.

"GET DOWN!", someone shouted as I ran out of the truck to aid a man who was down, the bullet had hit him in the shin. It had been months and months now since I'd left the hospital. Since my last encounter with the mysterious Sherlock Holmes. I couldn't stop thinking about him. I didn’t know why.

After the raid was over, we went back to base. I crawled straight into my bed, on the bottom bunk and laid there for a while before Ryan came in. “John”, he said, grinning, “you up for some _fun?”._ I shook my head, “not in the mood Ryan, and anyway, why would I want to do anything with _you?”._ He smirked, “Three Continents Watson! Likes the straight, the the gay and the bisexual”. He laughed loudly and I rolled my eyes, “piss off Ryan”. He scowled, sitting at the foot of my bed and palming me through my boxers. I kicked him, pulling the blanket over me, “don’t”. He leaned down over me and grabbed my face, kissing me fiercely, _“don't!”,_ I shouted louder, grabbing him by the neck and pushing him off my bed. He got up and threw a punch at my face, “come on Watson!”. I groaned in pain, grabbing my nose as blood spilled out over my blanket. Where was Adam when I needed him? He was my room share, he had the top bunk and was the only one who ever came in here. I needed him. _Now._ Ryan clambered on top of me, kissing my lips hard, as I was trying to push him away, “stop! Please stop!”. He laughed into my mouth and I was now regretting just wearing my boxers to bed. His hands wandered down my stomach and pulled them off. “Oh look at you John, just look at you. You look beautiful”. He made me feel sick. It’s not like a man hadn't seen my cock before, but I didn't want _him_ to. When having to lose a fellow soldier or friend and there were nothing I could do to help him, or her, it was nice, to have someone. _Anyone._ To come and cheer me up. Sex was a great stress relief. But _this?_ This was awful. “Stop, _stop._ Stop please!”. He laughed again, softly stroking my cheek as he gripped my cock in this fist, tightly. I screamed in frustration and terror. It hurt, his grip was too tight and he held me down so I couldn't move. Tears were stinging my eyes. I couldn't cry now. I couldn’t. “Oh god! _ADAM!_ ADAM HELP ME PLEASE!”. Ryan looked over his shoulder to see Adam standing at the doorway. He was standing there with his mouth open, shocked, not knowing what to do. But before Ryan could even respond he was already tackled to the floor, leaving me free from anymore pain. I pulled my boxers on quickly and turned my head away from him. I just wanted to cry. "Th-thank you.. thank you _so_ much", I managed to whimper. Adam nodded at me and dragged Ryan out of the room. As soon as they both left I pulled the blanket over my head and cried, trying desperately to calm down and catch back my breath. I hope that was the last time I’d ever see Ryan again and _never,_ was I going to just wear my boxers to bed, ever again. 

The next morning Adam said nothing to me. We just got on with our day as usual.

A man came into the surgery, around dinner time, carried by two soldiers. His right leg looked like it had been nearly torn off. They put him down in front of me and I nodded at them. They walked out and left me to clean the wounds on the patient’s leg and I started stitching the deep rip in the flesh as Adam walked in. “I’m working”, I mumbled. “I just wanted to say, I'm sorry I didn't get there quicker last night”, he said softly, stepping closer to me. I looked up at him and forced a smile, “wasn't your fault”. He shrugged, “still it was awful”. I nodded and he forced a soft laugh, going in to hug me. I held up my hands, that were at this moment in time, covered in another mans blood. He laughed, properly this time, “fix this man up Doctor Watson”. I grinned, thinking of Sherlock as he always used to call me that but my smile soon dropped as four men burst through the door.

They weren't on our side.

The bullet was coming at me.

It seemed to all be happening in slow motion as I got knocked to floor and all I could think of was, I'd never see Sherlock Holmes again.


	5. Sherlock's POV

I sat there, curled up on the sofa. I was so _bored._ The TV played in the background as I waited on Lestrade texting me back. I just wanted an interesting case and I hadn't been back to the hospital since Doctor Watson left, even though I did burn my arm after spilling boiling water over it just yesterday. I think I missed him. I didn't really know. I hadn't really felt like this before. _But._ Sentiment was never good. I stretched out on the sofa and went into my mind palace. I’d most probably have at least 5 minutes of peace before Lestrade finally managed to type a text, as he was _so slow._ How he made it into the police force being that slow I do not know. All I could think about were all the times I went to the hospital. All the facial expressions, the little giggle John did and that _thing_ he did with his tongue to wet his lips every few minutes. I’d never forget any of that. _Wait._ I sat up quickly as I heard the TV. I'm surprised I heard it. I’d nearly missed It. But, _no._ It couldn’t be.

_'Three British soldiers found in Afghanistan in the surgery of their own base. The Afghans managed to get into the base and sadly killed two men and injured a third before all being killed themselves by fellow British soldiers. No names are to be released anytime soon though I can confirm the injured is in a critical condition'_

_A surgery._ I grabbed my phone, my fingers shaking as I scrolled through my contacts, “Mycroft! _Mycroft!_ Help me, help me please”, I begged into the phone. I _never_ begged. I never even asked for help. I needed to calm down. It might not even be him. He'll be alright, he’s strong. There must be loads of doctors out there. It _couldn't_ be him. “God Sherlock, what have you done now?”, Mycroft said down the phone, sounding generally worried. “No, no. It’s not me. I need the names of the three soldiers that were in the incident yesterday”, I said, trying to control my breathing. I heard a few taps on the keyboard before he said, “Adam Tyler, Steve Granger and John Watson”. I let a whimper escape my lips. “Sherlock? What the _hell_ is going on? Are you okay?”, Mycroft demanded. I exhaled slowly, “who’s the one still alive?”. I heard my brother take a deep breath before he finally spoke, “Doctor John Watson”. I felt as if I could finally breath as I heard those words come down the phone. “Do you know where he is?, I said, still trying to calm myself down, “what hospital I mean?”. Mycroft searched his computer once more, “no. Not yet, I'll let you know”. I nodded, then remembering he couldn't see me, _well.._ unless he still had those cameras in my flat, “thank you”. I heard a sharp laugh come from my brothers lips, “my little brother saying thank you. I do hope this mans worth it”. I smiled to myself, “he is. Oh he is, I can assure you that”.


	6. John's POV

I opened my eyes slowly, it was bright and I couldn't really focus. I tried to speak but no words came out. I flexed my hands, but only managed to move my right one as someone was clinging on to my left palm. I tilted my head to the side, hissing in pain to see someone asleep in the chair next to me. From what I could make out, they had black curly hair and wore a long black coat with a blue scarf around their neck. _A blue scarf._ Sherlock Holmes. I squeezed his hand as tight as I could manage, causing his eyes to spring open and him to jump out of his chair. “Doctor Watson?”, he whispered quietly and I squeezed his hand again. I saw him smile as my vision started to focus and as he leant over me. “Sherlock”, I managed to mumble out. He laughed softly, “you _finally_ got my name right”. I smiled, squeezing his hand again as I didn't really have the energy to speak. “Can I call you John now? If you can call me Sherlock?”, I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. He shook his head, “squeeze for yes, do nothing for no”. I squeezed his hand and he grinned, “I heard you saved a lot of lives out there”. I smiled again, wishing I could just make conversation with him. I had so many things I wanted to talk to him about. But, I was _holding_ his hand. I was holding Sherlock’s hand.

A nurse walked in and Sherlock quickly looked up, “can I help you?”. I managed to let out a giggle as the nurse scowled at him, “I was going to tell you his progress. He’s been here for a week now. He should be able to leave”. I raised my eyebrows. _A whole week!?_ Sherlock nodded to her and she came over to me, checking me over. I screwed up my face and was trying not to laugh as Sherlock was softly laughing under his breath. I don't really know what was funny. But I was glad Sherlock found it funny too. “He most likely has a psychosomatic limp. His shoulder will scar, but it seems fine for now, just don't get it wet for 48 hours”, the nurse said quickly, _"if,_ someone is home with you, you can leave now John”. My eyes widened in panic, “he lives with me”, Sherlock said, looking over at me and smiled. I noticed the nurse nod as she pushed a cane into Sherlock’s hand, “this will help him walk”. Sherlock scowled, “I know what a cane does, you okay to get up John?”. I nodded, slowly sitting up as I still felt a bit delicate, “drink?”. He grabbed a half empty cup of water, most likely his and held it towards me. I took it and downed the whole glass, finally feeling my voice coming back slightly, “okay, I think I'm ready”.

I slowly got up, grabbing my cane. I nearly fell over but Sherlock grabbed me by the arm. “I need to get used to walking with this leg”, I mumbled softly, clinging onto his arm tightly. Sherlock shook his head, “it’s perfectly fine John. Don’t worry”. I smiled and we walked out of the hospital together, very slowly due to my leg and Sherlock called a taxi over as we got outside. “Thanks for letting me stay”, I said softly. He just smiled, as if it was nothing, opening the door to the taxi that just pulled up next to us and helped me in, getting in after me and doing up my seat belt. “Sherlock, I'm _fine._ Please stop fussing”, I said softly, putting my hand on the seat in between us. He took it and huffed in response, clinging onto it. He was holding it tight, as if he was trying to keep me there, not wanting me to leave. He was holding it as if he was using all his strength, clinging onto it as tight as he could manage. Just holding me there, with him. Us. _Together._


	7. Sherlock's POV

I don't know why I said John could live with me. Well I did, I liked him, a lot. But we barely knew each other, _well,_ he barely knew me and now he was moving in and I didn't even ask if that was what he wanted. I just told him. I hope that was okay. Well, he seemed happy. I _did_ care about him. I just wanted to make sure he'd be okay. He obviously had nowhere to stay, as he had just returned from the army, so it was the least I could do. I even had a spare room. If we'd be needing it..

The taxi stopped outside 221B and I got out the taxi one side, paying the driver before helping John out the other side, wrapping an arm around his waist. _“Sherlock!_ I can walk”, he mumbled, trying to use just his cane to walk towards the door, though I wouldn't let go. “I know”, I said softly, unlocking the door. He looked up at the stairs and I had to force away my smirk. “I can carry you”, I said making him shake his head vigorously. “I’m not a child”, he said, attempting to climb up the first few steps, he stumbled and I grabbed his waist, making sure he wouldn't fall, _“please?”._ He sighed, letting me pick him up and carry him upstairs to my- no, _our_ door. He was quite light for such a muscular man. I put him down carefully and he muttered a thank you under his breath. He was embarrassed. I nodded and unlocked the door. He stepped inside and I shut the door behind us, “it’s nothing much, there’s a spare room.. if you want it, I have a lot of things, they’re everywhere. I can tidy up a bit if you want”. He smiled up at me, “no it’s, nice. Very nice indeed”. I pointed at the chair and he sat down as Mrs Hudson burst in the door. “Do you ever knock?!”, I said sternly, though she just ignored me and gasped at John. _“Oh!_ It’s your Doctor! Does he do house calls now? Hello Doctor. I thought Sherlock said you were off somewhere getting shot at? What happened?!”, she said all at once. John’s smile dropped, “I got shot”.

After a numerous amount of apologies, Mrs Hudson went back downstairs after making John a tea and me a coffee. He didn't take sugar. “Sherlock.. _uh,_ do you know what happened to me, out in A-Afghanistan?”, he said, slightly stuttering. He seemed nervous. I nodded, as I recalled the horrifically detailed version of the story Mycroft had told me down the phone. I think I preferred the nurses version. He swallowed nervously as he looked me straight in the eye, “can you tell me.. I-I, _uh.._ don't really remember”.


	8. John's POV

I exhaled loudly as I waited for Sherlock to speak. “You were in the surgery, Steve Granger was, on your table. He'd had his leg nearly blown off”, I nodded. I remembered that far. “Four men walked in and they-“, his voice cracked slightly before carrying on, “Adam. Adam Tyler saved your life. He, jumped in front of you. The bullet, it.. hit him in the heart. It went.. straight through him. He must have tried to push you down. It just caught.. _well,_ you know the rest”. He was avoiding my gaze and was just staring at the floor. Was it affecting him too? Did he _really_ care? Sherlock Holmes didn't really seem to be the caring type of person but maybe he just hid it well. Right now he looked like he cared. He looked like he actually cared about _me._

"I take it none of them survived then", I said quietly. He shook his head, "no. Though the four that came in. They died. _Thankfully._ But no. Not the other two". A sob escaped my mouth before I quickly slapped my hand over my mouth, muffling my cries. Sherlock’s eyes immediately snapped up to look at mine. "Were you close with this.. Adam guy then?", he said, slowly. Was that.. _jealousy_ in his eyes? No.. it couldn't be.. I pulled my hand away from my mouth, “he was my room share. The night before he _save-"._ I shook my head as more tears ran down my cheeks. He looked at me with confusion and uselessness in his eyes. He didn't know what to do. I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand, “I’m fine”. I obviously wasn't. I felt sad and guilty. Adam had saved my life. He died for _me._ Why did I deserve to live and he didn’t? I had no answer. There was no answer. _I didn’t._ He should still be alive. I was the one they fired at. I should be dead, yet he took the bullet for me. It was _my_ fault. “What else did Adam save you from?”. I shook my head, “it doesn't matter”. He looked straight at me, slight desperation showing in his gaze, _“please?”._ I sighed, taking a deep breath, ”a man, in the same base as me. He.. he _uh.._ came into my room. Adam wasn’t there it was just me.. _I-_ uh.. I was in bed. I told him to stop. But he wouldn’t. He didn’t. He just did it.. He wouldn't stop”.


	9. Sherlock's POV

I gripped the arm’s of my chair tightly, turning my knuckles white. “What happened?”, I said quietly, trying to control my anger. He avoided my gaze, “I-I was in bed. He just came in and hit me and.. took off my boxers. I said no but he.. he only took hold of it, n-nothing really happened”. I was shaking now in anger, “what was his name?”, I said through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t matte-“, John went to say, shaking his head. _“WHAT WAS HIS NAME!”,_ I shouted at the top of my voice, my anger all just bubbling over. “Ryan. Ryan Wedd”, he whispered. “Don't move”, I said through my quick breaths. I could barely speak I was so angry. I walked into my bedroom and sank down onto the floor with my back against the door. I think I might have scared him, but I'd deal with that later.

How _dare_ someone do that to John. How could anyone ever bring any harm to him? This was worse than him being shot. Mostly because that rapist was still alive. _Ryan Wedd._ If I ever met that man I’d kill him. Or at least make sure he never does that to anyone, especially John, ever again. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, trying to calm my breaths before calling Mycroft. “Look up Ryan Wedd”. He sighed down the phone as I heard keys tapping in the background. “Military. Afghanistan. Got kicked out a few days back. I can't tell you more Sherlock, the report hasn’t been filled in yet”. I clenched down hard on my teeth as I felt my anger boiling again, “he raped John Watson”. I threw my bedside lamp at the wall in anger, making the bulb smash and shatter on my bedroom floor, “he raped him Mycroft!”. I choked back a cry and threw my head back against the door. That’ll bruise later. “I’ll deal with him”, Mycroft finally muttered down the phone, “look after John, and for godsake Sherlock, _calm down._ He’s delicate. _Vulnerable._ He needs to be cared for. I don't know how you’ll do it but, just be nice”. I hung up the phone and scowled to myself. I could look after John. I wasn’t stupid. Food, water, hygiene and sleep. Yeah, sure, I wasn’t very good at looking after myself but, I cared for John. It couldn’t be that hard. I finally stood up and opened the door, walking back over to where John was sitting. He’d been crying. “Would you like a bath?”.

I walked into the bathroom with him and he looked up at me nervously, “this is incredibly embarrassing”. I shook my head, “it’s necessary, you have to be careful of your shoulder”. He nodded, going to pull off his jumper but only wincing in pain, “I’ll do it”. He went to complain but I’d already started to pull it off, slowly, avoiding his shoulder as best as I could. I unbuttoned his shirt, avoiding his gaze. I could feel him staring at me. I helped him shrug off his shirt and held back my gasp. He had a toned body and his tan still showed, which he’d caught when he was in Afghanistan. He didn’t go red and burnt like I did. He went a sort of golden colour and _oh._ The wound. It stood out on his shoulder and I saw him pull a face as he looked down at it. It wasn't ugly it was, _fascinating._ I touched it softly with my fingertip and he jerked away, “sorry”. He shook his head, “it’s fine”. I started to run the bath and poured in some of that bubble bath stuff. Someone had bought me a bottle of the stuff for christmas once, I think it might have been Molly. I was going to use it for an experiment but, I guess I’d let John use it. “Can you get out of your trousers okay?”, I said, pulling off his shoes and socks, looking up at him. He scowled, “I’m not incapable”, though afterwards he quickly muttered out an apology for snapping. I just nodded.

He asked me to turn my back as he undressed. “I’m done but, no peeking”. I nodded as I heard him slowly step towards the bath without his cane. I heard the sound of his feet slipping and spun around quickly to catch his waist. He had one foot in and the other out, causing his bum to stick out as he leant over the bath. I smirked, being quite glad he couldn't see my face as I was quite flushed, due to him nearly knocking into me with his arse. I couldn’t help staring. My fingers were millimetres away, I could just _slowly.._ He straightened up quickly, causing me to drop my hands as I lost my train of thought. “I told you no peeking!”, he squealed out, “I can only see your bum, don’t worry. Just get in and do try not to injure yourself anymore”. He slowly got in, making me turn my head so I couldn’t look. “Okay I’m ready”, he finally said. I turned around and he quickly pulled some bubbles over his crotch area so I couldn’t see anything. I held back my laugh, kneeling down by the edge of the bath. “Watch your shoulder”, I said, taking in the sight of him. The water was lapping just above his belly button and wow. I found him attractive. _Really_ attractive. I just wanted to jump in there and join him. _No._ Why was I thinking like that? He had a strange effect on me. A nice one though. He looked over at me and smiled, “I’ll be careful”. I smiled back, “me too”.


	10. John's POV

I sat up in the bath, making sure my shoulder didn't get near the water. Sherlock leant over me and picked up a flannel from the end of the bath, near my feet. I was naked and he was about to wash me. _Sherlock Holmes_ was about to wash me. He started on my stomach, using slow motions as he worked his way downwards. I wasn't going to deny it, I was embarrassed. But it felt good. Nice. _Amazing._ He moved down to my hip bones and I let out an accidental whimper, “I’ll do below there”. He just nodded, smiling at me. I could feel my cock twitching under the water at his slow movements. I couldn’t get a hard on now. He’d see it. I took a deep breath and thought about something, _anything,_ but what was happening right now. He started to wash up my chest, a finger grazing over my left nipple as he leant over, causing me to bite my lip to avoid another embarrassing outburst, like the earlier whimper. He washed my good shoulder and my arms, pulling my arms up out of the water and washing in between my fingers. I grinned, holding back a laugh. It kind of tickled. He started on my neck afterwards then up to my face. He wiped the flannel across my cheek and I finally let out a soft giggle. A large smile spread across his face, “I’ll turn my back now”.

He sat down on the floor with his back to the bath and I started to wash my crotch area, trying to keep the friction to a minimum as I was already on the verge of a hard on. I then washed my legs and tried to reach for my feet, groaning half in pain and half in frustration. Sherlock looked over at me, “your feet? I'll do them”. He kneeled up again, turning to face me, “lift”. I lifted my feet up, holding my hands over my crotch incase of any exposure. He smiled, picking up the flannel and started to wash my feet. I giggled, louder than I meant to, _"oh!_ That tickles!”. Sherlock laughed, continuing. I giggled even more, trying to pull my feet out of his grasp, “Sherlock! _Stop!_ It tickles!”. He laughed louder this time, pulling his hands away, “alright, alright. You all done?”. I nodded as he walked over to the radiator and picked up a blue towel. I watched him as he walked. The way he swung his hips. _His arse._ He was brilliant to look at.

He walked back up to the bath and held out his hand for me to take. I raised my eyebrows and he grinned, squeezing his eyes shut. I stepped out of the bath and dropped his hand, quickly pulling the towel around me, “okay, done”. He opened his eyes and smiled down at me, just staring at me for a few seconds before saying, “you okay to walk?”. I nodded, “just.. my cane”. He picked it up and handed it to me, letting me walk, though he walked right beside me. Just incase. “Your room is upstairs, but it may be a little trouble getting up there, _uh.._ you can sleep in my room. For now?”. A felt a huge smile spread across my face, “thank you. For everything Sherlock. All this. You really didn't have to”. He just nodded, holding the door to his bedroom open for me to walk into. He dropped my clothes on his floor and put my boxers down on the bed as I had no hands free. One was gripping my cane tightly and the other hugging the towel around my naked body, “I guess you will have to wear these to bed. I’ll collect your things tomorrow”. I laughed softly, “Sherlock, I’m meant to be _your_ doctor. I feel like a patient right now”. He grinned, letting a soft laugh escape his lips, "my patient. Uh.. _food?”._ I nodded, “yeah, that would be great thanks”.

He walked out and I dropped the towel, quickly pulling my boxers back on. I sat down on the bed and laid my cane down on the floor, carefully sliding under the sheets. The sweet scent of Sherlock filled my nostrils as I laid down. It was.. oddly attractive. I sat up and waited for Sherlock to come back and sighed. I hadn't slept properly since the Ryan incident. But, _now?_ The dreams would be even worse. I pulled the blanket tightly around me as I shivered. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have actually changed very, small tiny parts to this from when I first published this on Tumblr as I did write it a fair few months ago. It should be better now - I hope.


	11. Sherlock's POV

I ran downstairs and knocked on Mrs Hudson’s door. She opened it and smiled at me, “Sherlock dear, come in”. I walked in and sat down at the table in her kitchen, “I need to make some food for John but _I.._ I don’t really make normal food”. She laughed softly, pointing over at the pan, “I’ve got it sorted, don’t worry”. I grinned, watching her cook. She was a life saver. _Well,_ she did owe me a few favours but she really was a lovely lady. I guess, I considered her as a friend. Sort of. She put a tray down on the table and on top of it two bowls, “oh, no Mrs Hudson, I’m not hungry”. She rolled her eyes, taking one bowl away, supposedly keeping it for herself. She filled the remaining bowl up with pasta and put some butter on top. She put a glass of water on there too along with an apple. “The apples for you Sherlock. _Eat”._ I nodded, standing up and kissing her cheek, “bless you, Mrs Hudson”.

I took the tray back upstairs and grabbed a fork from the kitchen before going back to my bedroom. John was sitting there in my bed under my blanket, his bare chest showing along with that fascinating wound on his shoulder, standing out like a sore thumb on his tanned body. He looked.. I don’t know. Sort of, _breathtaking._ I put the tray down on his lap and sat down next to him, grabbing my apple and taking a bite. He smiled a thank you at me and started to eat, quite quickly. He must have been hungry. I watched him as he ate, the simple things maybe others wouldn't notice. The way he held his fork. The way his jaw moved every time he took a bite. The way his tongue darted out to catch that bit of melted butter that tried to escape his lips. Those lips. _John._ I shook my head and took the tray as he finished, putting the apple core in the bowl and stood up to take it back to the kitchen. He choked out a no which made me spin back around, “stay?”. I smiled, placing the tray down on the floor and jumped into bed with him. My hand accidentally brushed against his leg and he flinched, his eyes turning wide, “get out”. I stood up quickly, slightly hurt before realising. I grabbed a shirt from my wardrobe and held it out to him. He forced a smile, his sad and worrying eyes locked with mine as he pulled on my shirt, not bothering to button it up. He sighed, “sorry. Please lay back down. It was just.. I was only just.. I was only wearing..”. I shook my head, “it's alright. I understand”. He went to argue, though he just closed his mouth as I crawled back into bed.

He closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep. I watched him for a while. _Again._ He was interesting. Nice to watch. The rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair got more and more out of place the more he shuffled about in his sleep, the way his eyes looked like they were still moving underneath his closed eyelids and the way that beautiful smile of his turned into a worrying frown. He started to sweat in his sleep and he mumbled a soft, “no”. I just laid there, watching him, not knowing what to do. “No!”, he said louder, “get off me! _Please!_ Please stop! Stop it!”, he started to shout, thrashing about in his sleep. I knew what it was about. That awful nightmare. I grabbed hold of him, hugging him tight against me, wary of his shoulder. His eyes sprang open and he gasped, “it’s okay. It’s Sherlock. You’re fine. I've got you. No one will hurt you”, I whispered, rubbing his back with my hand like they do in those stupid movies I hadn't managed to delete yet. Though they did seem to provide some use for once, as he slowly started to calm down. He cried for a while, sobbing into my chest and he hugged me tightly back, “don't let go”, he whispered quietly and I squeezed him tighter making him smile. He closed his eyes and soon after his breathing went back to normal as he fell asleep in my arms. He knew I was there for him. I was going to protect him from anything and everything. I cared about him a lot. I really did.


	12. John's POV

I woke up in Sherlock’s arms. I felt slightly embarrassed as I’d had a bad dream last night and he had to experience it. To be there to see it. I also needed the toilet, _badly,_ but I was held tightly in Sherlock’s arms. I hated to let go but, I had to or I’d wet myself here in Sherlock’s bed. _Then_ I’d be embarrassed. “Sherlock?”, I whispered, “are you awake?”. He made a sort of humming sound in response, pulling me tighter against him, _"ah!_ Sherlock, let go! I need the toilet”. He opened one eye and looked at me, “do you need help?”. I laughed, “no! God _no,_ Sherlock. I’m fine”. He nodded closing his eye again as he let me go. I picked my cane up off the floor and went to walk out the door, “thank you though”, I said softly and he smiled, though his eyes were still squeezed tightly shut.

I walked off to the bathroom, well.. _hobbled._ I hated this cane, it made me feel useless and not capable of even using my own limbs and I hated even more relying on Sherlock. I loved how he actually cared to look after me, it was sweet but, I have always been quite independant and I now was relying on him for literally everything. But the wound would heal soon. The limp would hopefully get better and everything would go back to normal. I might even be able to get my old job back. It was awfully nice of Sherlock, to offer his hospitality, his bed and his care, however I really did feel like a patient. _I_ was the doctor here. I didn’t want to be, fussed over or protected. I wanted to walk properly. I wanted to make people better and make them smile. I wanted to go outside. I wanted to go for a run, like I used to. Anything but this. _Anything_ but Sherlock caring for me just because I had a stupid limp.

I locked the bathroom door and finally relieved myself. I washed my hands and then touched the stitches on my chest, as Sherlock’s shirt was still hanging off me loosely. It was big on me, as he was a lot taller than me, aswell as being skinnier too, compared to my short, military frame. I’d have a scar there soon. An ugly scar permanently marking my chest to remind me everyday of what happened. For the rest of my life. I looked at myself in the mirror, frowning slightly. I looked a mess. _Awful._ Dreadful. “John?”, I heard a sleepy voice behind the door. I unlocked the door, smiling up at him. He was standing there, already fully dressed, “I’m fine Sherlock”. He nodded, walking off and over to the sofa, sitting down. I walked into the kitchen, “tea?”, I said, looking over at him. He screwed his nose up, “coffee, two sugars”. I nodded, searching the cupboards for sugar and mugs as I boiled the kettle. I took the coffee over to Sherlock when it was done but had to go back for my tea, as carrying two cups and using my cane wasn’t a very easy thing to do. I sighed, sitting down next to him. “It’ll get easier you know”, he said softly, practically reading my mind. I raised my eyebrows, “if you say so”.

Sherlock’s phone buzzed and he snatched it up, reading the text. He looked over at me and frowned, “what is it?”. He stared back down at his phone, “I’m a consulting detective, only one in the world. _Well,_ I invented the job. The police consult me when they’re out of their depth, which is always. They want me to go in, they’ve got something for me”. I nodded, “so go in?”. He looked over at me, _“but.._ what about you?”. I laughed softly, “I’ll be fine on my own”. He looked straight at me, with a worried look in his eyes, hesitating, before finally saying, “fine. _Okay!_ But be careful? Don’t do anything stupid”. I grinned, “no, don’t _you_ do anything stupid! I know what you’re like!”. Sherlock laughed, quickly typing something into his phone before pressing a kiss to my forehead. He stood up quickly, “I won’t be long”. I sat there in shock and just nodded my head as he pulled on his coat and scarf, “see you soon”. I finally locked eyes with him and smiled, “yeah, alright, see you”. He walked out and I quickly pressed my fingers to my forehead. He’d just kissed me. Sherlock Holmes had just _bloody_ kissed me.


	13. Sherlock's POV

I ran down the stairs, out the front door and pulled over a taxi. I sat inside and told the driver the address. Only then did I finally press my fingers to my lips. I kissed him. _Why_ did I even do that? I’d actually kissed him. I dropped my hand quickly. _Sentiment._ I cared about John and I was worried about him. At times he seemed so strong, but other times I could tell he wanted to cry but he was holding it in because he was around me. I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable around me. I didn’t even want to leave him at home on his own any more. I wanted to be there for him. _Always._ What was that? _Love?_ I don't know. For once I didn’t know. I had no idea what it felt like. This was all new to me. It was slightly.. _daunting._ But for him? Three Continents Watson? I laughed to myself at the nickname Mycroft told me down the phone but then shivered. Someone else having sex with John. My John. _No._ He wasn’t mine. Was I jealous? _No._ I couldn’t be jealous. He was my doctor for god sake. No, he was a friend now. My friend. I had to look out for him, like he did for me. I sighed, jumping out the taxi, paying the driver as I finally got the crime scene. I really had no idea what all these feelings were and I didn’t really have anyone to ask about them. Well, no one but John. But no way was I ever going to tell him about these, feeling things.

I walked under the police tape, receiving various remarks from Donovan. “You stink of Anderson”, I said, glaring at her. That shut her up. I walked inside and pulled on my gloves. “Sherlock, you’re here”, Lestrade said, grinning at me. “Of course I’m here, where’s the body?”. He showed me upstairs and we walked into a bedroom. I walked over to the middle of the room and crouched over the body. She was sprawled out at an awkward angle. Probably because of the way she fell from being stabbed in the neck. She was also just in her underwear. She must have known the killer. Trusted them. Probably a male, due to the sheer force needed to create a wound like that. Taller then her, due to the angle. Either careless or was shaking as the knife couldn’t have hit that artery on purpose. They’d nearly missed. Just a basic kitchen knife by the looks of things. Looked deep from where I was crouched. I’d say about 8 inches deep. Anderson probably missed the missing knife in the cutlery drawer. Her underwear was worn to impress. So was her make-up. She’d planned her outfit. Maybe to impress the killer. Husband maybe due to the ring? Or maybe she was having an affair? I took the ring off and inspected the inside. Affair, _definitely._ So most probably the husband or the bit on the side. “Suspects?”, I said, finally looking up at Lestrade. He shook his head, “there was a family gathering, they were all there, except Martha. Can’t have been family. She didn’t have many friends either, her fiancé is very protective. He’s in Germany on a business trip”. I scowled muttering under my breath, "fiancé, there’s always something”. I jumped up and walked over the desk in the corner of the room to look through the pile of papers. “Mechanic”, I said loudly. Lestrade walked over to me, “what?”. I threw open the drawer and pulled out all the papers until I found what I needed, “he’s a mechanic you idiot Lestrade! When does a mechanic ever go on a ‘business trip’!?”. Lestrade nodded, looking dumbfounded. I put the passport in his hand, “Germany? Without his passport? She was having an affair. He killed her in rage when he found out. Do at least, try and look for the obvious”. Lestrade forced a smile, “okay, I get it Sherlock, thank you”. I huffed in response, “that was incredibly boring, now anyway, I have to get back. John will be waiting”. Lestrade raised his eyebrows, “my new flat share”. He smirked, “I thought you looked happier”. I rolled my eyes, pulled off my gloves and walked out. Well, that didn’t even make a 2 on interest level. 

I pulled my phone out and sent a text,

_You okay? SH_

I got an immediate reply, 

_I’m fine. We’re low on milk JW_

I pocketed my phone and called over a taxi. Before buying milk I was going to Harry’s house. I needed to pick up John’s things. He obviously wasn’t very close with his brother, as he never even came to visit him in hospital, let alone give him a place to stay now John was back in the country after nearly dying. Maybe he still wasn’t over his divorce. Though that wasn’t an excuse. Neither was the drinking problem.

I jumped out the taxi and knocked on the door. A girl opened it, “can I help you?”. I nodded, “can I speak to Harry please? I’m John Watson’s.. _uh.._ flat share. I’m here to collect his things”. The girl raised her eyebrows, “I’ve got it all packed. I’ll just fetch the bag”. I heard her run up the stairs, leaving me standing in the doorway before she came back a few minutes later, dropping the bag at my feet. _“Oh_ and by the way”, she stuck out her hand for me to shake, “I’m Harry, nice to meet you”. I scowled, _"sister!"._


	14. John's POV

Sherlock walked in the door half way through some boring chat show on TV I was watching. I was stretched out across his sofa as he walked in with my bag and 3 pints of milk. “I didn’t know what colour milk to buy, so I bought green, blue and red”. I laughed, “it’s all fine Sherlock”. He grinned, lifted my legs up and sat down on the sofa, placing my feet in his lap, “I picked up your things”. I smiled at him, “how was your case?”. He scowled, “so incredibly dull. The jealous husband stabbed the cheating wife. _Boring”._ I raised my eyebrows, “you solved it then?”. He smirked, “within 5 minutes”. I laughed, “how did you know my stuff was at Harry’s? _Wait.._ how did you know where Harry’s was?!”.

He smiled and started to rub my feet, “I took the key from your pocket. I could have matched it to a rough area and possibly tried all the houses, except you already had the address in your phone. Yes, I looked through it. Was that a bad thing to do? I returned the key by the way. _Oh_ and change your phone password, your date of birth is too obvious. _Anyway._ Your phone. From Harry. She gave you the phone, though she didn't bother offering you a place to stay or even visit you in hospital. Probably just wanted to get rid of it then. _Oh wait,_ that part was easy too. _'To Harry, love Clara xxx',_ three kisses, expensive model, wife. But why would she give it away? _Divorce._ She left Harry, that why Harry gave it to you. Oh, Clara probably left because of your sisters drinking habits. The scuff marks around the charger socket. Obvious. Though, Harry!? _Why_ is she called Harry?”. I smirked this time, “you thought she was a boy”. He scowled, “she has a boys name!”. I laughed, “Harry! Short for Harriet”. He scowled again, _“sister!”._ I grinned, “close enough Sherlock, Close enough”. 

He continued to rub my feet, hitting that spot that made me squeal, “Sherlock! You know I'm ticklish there! God dammit!”. He laughed, continuing to rub them, but avoiding that one spot. He was very good at it. It felt, _lovely._ Relaxing too and.. slightly arousing. He pressed a little harder, causing a breathy moan to escape my lips. I felt my cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment, which made him smirk again. He continued to do it, with me biting my bottom lip to stop my moans. I was afraid I was going to get a hard on. 

"Stop Sherlock", I said quietly. He stopped and looked down at me, "sorry. Did I do something wrong?". I smiled, "no. _No,_ of course not. It was perfect, thank you. Just.. lay down with me please?”. He nodded, looking down at me, trying to figure out where to lie, “stand up a second”. I pulled myself up and held onto the sofa so I could keep my balance. He laid down and opened his legs a little, “lay there”. I looked at him, slightly hesitating before getting back on the sofa, laying between his legs, my head resting on his chest. It was surprisingly comfy. I loved it. I loved _this._ “You okay?”, he whispered. I sighed happily, “I’m good Sherlock. I’m happy”.


	15. Sherlock's POV

I didn’t know what feeling aroused was really like. Or even feeling attracted to someone. But _oh god, _John was lying in between my legs with his head on my chest. I wasn’t sure if he liked me. _Well,_ I knew he felt something. But, these feelings were new to me. “That was brilliant Sherlock, earlier, what you did”, John said softly. I raised my eyebrows, “the foot thing?”. He laughed softly, the vibrations from his laugh running through my chest. It felt amazing. “I meant the thing about finding my bag. But yes, that too”. I grinned, “you really think so?”. He hummed in response, “amazing! Truly fascinating”. I sighed happily, “that’s not what people usually say”. He looked up at me, “what do they usually say?”. I smirked, “piss off”. He giggled and a giggle escaped my lips too. He looked happy. _I_ was happy. __

__"John. I _uh.._ need to tell you something”, I mumbled. He looked up at me with a worried look in his eye, “what is it Sherlock?”. I exhaled loudly, “it’s Ryan. Ryan Wedd”. John frowned, “I don’t care about him”. I shook my head, “no John. He.. died. Yesterday”. John’s face stayed straight, “okay”. I swallowed nervously, “it was my brother”. John’s stared at me, confused, “w-what? Why would your brother kill Ryan?”. I looked away from him, trying to avoid his gaze, “I told him what happened. I was just angry. He.. hurt you John. I was angry and I told Mycroft and he said he’d deal with him but I didn’t know he’d kill him”. John jumped off me, staggering a little before grabbing his cane off the floor. “Sherlock! You can’t just kill a man because he hurt me!”, he shouted. I didn’t like him shouting. Especially at me. “I didn’t tell Mycroft to kill him”, I muttered. The evil shit deserved it anyway. “I’m going out”, he muttered back, walking towards the door. I jumped over the sofa and stopped in front of the door. He scowled, “move Sherlock”. I shook my head, “no! I didn’t do anything wrong. He hurt you John. He made you feel bad and you think about it a lot I know you do. I just told my brother. I was angry! He said he’d deal with him”. He looked up at me, “will your brother go to jail?”. I laughed, “they won’t even find the body”. John smiled slightly, “but.. how?”. I grinned, “he’s practically the British Government. His name literally opens doors”. John nodded, trying to escape round me still to leave the house. I grabbed his arms and he dropped his cane, “Sherlock”. He looked up at me glaring, “I don’t like it when you shout at me”. He raised his eyebrows, “Sorry. But you shouldn’t have done that. I told you what happened. It was a secret Sherlock! I trusted you”. That hit me like a tonne of bricks. He trusted me. Past tense. “John! I didn’t.. No one.. No one tells me secrets. _I-I_ didn’t know I couldn’t tell anyone”. He smiled slightly, “okay. Fine! _Fine._ I forgive you then. Happy?”. I smiled, “do you still trust me?”. He laughed softly, “yes Sherlock. I trust you”. I grinned widely, “do you need your wound looking at?”. He nodded, “I’ll tell you what to do okay? I’ll just get my ca- _ah!_ Sherlock!”. I laughed loudly as he struggled in my arms, “put me down!”. I held him close to me, I'd said this before, but still, I thought he was quite light, even with all his muscle. I carried him to my bedroom and laid him down on the bed. “Okay.. talk me through it?”._ _


	16. John's POV

I laid there looking up at Sherlock, grinning. “I think there’s a first aid kit in my bag, if Harry packed it”. He nodded, leaving the room to go and fetch my bag. I looked down at what I was wearing and laughed to myself. Sherlock walked back in with the first aid kit and frowned, “what’s funny?”. I laughed more and he smiled, “what?!”. I pulled the unbuttoned shirt off and giggled, “I just tried to leave the house in my boxers and your shirt”. Sherlock laughed softly and reached for the cream that the nurse had given me, _“uh.._ you need to clean the wound first.. antiseptic wipe in the first aid kit”. Sherlock nodded, pulling out an antiseptic wipe and taking it out the wrapper. I reckoned he knew what he was doing, but he seemed to be enjoying being told what to do. “It might sting”, he whispered as he wiped the wound over. I clenched my jaw and flinched slightly, making him stop for only a second. I don't think he realised I actually noticed his hesitation. He threw the wipe in the bin and looked at me, “cream?”. I nodded and he unscrewed the lid, squirting a bit on his hand. I felt slightly vulnerable, laying here in just my boxers.. but I trusted him. I barely knew him and _still,_ I trusted him with my life. He started to apply the cream and I gasped at how cold it was. Sherlock grinned as he continued to rub it in. He seemed interested. He was looking at it intensely as he rubbed the cream in with his finger, “if you wanted to look at it, you could have just asked”. He laughed softly, “you don’t like it”. I shook my head, “of course I don’t.. it’s a bullet wound”. This time Sherlock shook his head, “don't you see?”, he climbed up on the bed and leant over me, causing my breath to catch in my throat. He had his face extremely close to mine as he stared at the wound on my shoulder. I could feel his warm breath on my chest. “It’s unique”, he finally said before he quickly stood up and walked out the room and I finally exhaled. _Wow._

I laid there for a few seconds, to realised what just actually happened, before I sat up on Sherlock’s bed and frowned, “Sherlock?”. I heard him jump up and he quickly walked back in the room, “what is it?”. I smiled slightly, “my cane?”. His mouth formed an _'o'_ shape and he nodded, quickly going to fetch it for me. I took it from him and stood up, pulling his shirt back on before walking out of his bedroom, “I can make dinner if you want?”. Sherlock raised his eyebrows as I looked at him, “you can cook?”. I nodded slowly, “can you?”. He walked over to the sofa and sat down, “fine, you make it”. I smiled to myself. Sherlock was a genius.. yet he couldn't even cook? “I delete things”, he muttered. I looked up from searching the cupboards, _“what?”._ He had his hands pressed together under his chin, “I delete unimportant things from my brain if they’re useless”. I nodded, opening the fridge, jumping in shock as I saw the severed head sitting on the bottom shelf. “Can you not put body parts next to the vegetables please Sherlock?”. He huffed in response. I guess that was an okay.

I put the rice, peas and mushrooms in a saucepan and waited for it to cook. He didn't seem to have any sources of protein at all in the flat. I sat down opposite Sherlock on a chair and grinned, “so are you good at general knowledge?”. He looked up and frowned, “general knowledge?”. I nodded, “yeah. Is general knowledge useless?”. He shrugged, “some of it”. I laughed to myself, “how many pairs of ribs does a normal human being have?”. Sherlock looked up at me, “12”. I nodded, “okay.. _okay.._ what colour is the northern line on the tube?”. He squeezed his eyes shut and flicked his hand in midair, then drew a line with his finger in the air. It looked strangely like a tube route line, “black”. My mouth fell open slightly as I nodded again, “okay. How long does it take the earth to orbit the sun?”. Sherlock frowned slightly, _“uhh”._ I smirked, “this ones easy”. Sherlock flopped back onto the sofa, “I’m not playing anymore, this is stupid”. I laughed, “it’s just over 365 days Sherlock. I’ll teach.. or reteach you the solar system one day if you want”. He just shrugged, “maybe”. I smiled, getting up to serve our mushroom risotto. “I hope it’s okay”. Sherlock sat up, taking the plate from me before I went back to get my own, “it looks nice.. thank you”.


End file.
